Three Puzzle Pieces
by BetaTurtle
Summary: How did I get so fucking lucky? It was a strange thought to have in the middle of a firefight. But, crouching behind the blown out computer console he'd been reprogramming just seconds before and watching the two women he loved most in the world fight off a horde of angry aliens? Yeah. He was lucky.
1. Bruce

_How did I get so fucking lucky?_

It was a strange thought to have in the middle of a firefight. But, crouching behind the blown out computer console he'd been reprogramming just seconds before and watching the two women he loved most in the world fight off a horde of angry aliens? Yeah. He was lucky.

It didn't even occur to him to feel scared. Valkyrie was immortal for one and for another, Natasha had already proven a million times over that she knew her way around dangerous situations. The only thing he worried about now was whether or not the upload had completed before the computer had been blown to bits. After two years as the Hulk, he'd managed to keep his giant green alter-ego at bay, content with contributing to their missions by using his seven PHD's instead of his muscles.

They already had that aspect covered. Watching the two of them fight was like watching a ballet. They'd been training as a team for the past six months, had been sleeping together for the past two, and every time he saw them together, they were more and more fluid, more intuitive of what the other would do.

Bullets and blades flew in all directions, as the women seemed to bend around each other, separate and come back together, blocking incoming blows from their enemies, covering each other with firepower and steel. Valkyrie swung the sword above Nat's head while Nat slid to the left and punched a would-be ambusher in the gut, electric currents knocking it unconscious.

He saw a pair of well armored aliens approaching from their blind spot. "Behind you, to the left," he whispered into his comm.

Valkyrie took it down with a sword to the gut. "Thanks, Big Guy," Nat said.

They both called him that. Most people called him that, but only when the two of them said it did it not sound laced with seven layers of irony. From Nat and Valkyrie it was sincere, gentle, playful, loving or sexy, sometimes all those things at once. It's how he'd known they were, well… the scientific part of his brain hated nonsense like this, but… it's how he'd known they were meant to be. At least for a little while.

With Natasha he'd known for a long time. They were both broken in the same way, afraid of their own power, afraid of their own pasts, afraid of admitting to and even admiring that angry core of themselves that gave them their strength. They'd been through war together, comforted each other but ultimately were two identical puzzle pieces; they fit awkwardly, and only with effort.

Valkyrie was broken in exactly the opposite way. Vulnerability was what she pushed away, hiding her sadness in layers of anger and bravado and liquor. He remembered the first time they'd met-really met-without the big green interloper. "I recognize you," he'd said. And she had too.

Valkyrie had been the puzzle piece that connected them all together.

He ducked back below the table as another bullet went whizzing by his head.

"Get out of the way! I don't want you dying on me yet, Mortal," the Asgardian called back.

Yeah, Bruce would do anything for them. But what they seemed to need most right now was for him to stay out of the way.

He checked his com system, calling to Tony to see if the files had come through yet. Nada. Just as well though. The other Avengers were fighting their own battle on the other side of the country. Something, something, Hydra, something. He didn't care about the specifics, just the tech they needed infiltrated and the files they needed in order to take whatever alien/Hydra threat needed taking down.

It was weird keeping a secret from the Avengers. He'd kept the secret of Hulk-or tried to anyway-all his life. But this? Relationship stuff? He'd never been one to sneak around.

However this just felt… too private and too new. All American, 1940's time-traveler Steve Rodgers would probably be shocked. Clint seemed the conservative type as well, with his beautiful farmhouse and wife and daughters. And he was too protective of Nat besides. And who knew what Thor and Loki felt at any given time.. they'd probably try to get in on the action. But the three of them needed time to figure everything out for themselves.

Besides it was easy to keep quiet for now. Everyone thought he had a thing going with Natasha anyway, and Valkyrie flirted at anything with legs that wasn't a table (or, weirdly, a talking goat. "You never know which magical god has decided to have a go at you by turning into a talking goat. Never ends well." He hoped she didn't have much experience in that regard.)

Frankly, even he was surprised things had turned out the way they did. Glad, certainly. Oh fuck was he glad. But if he had told his nerdy, fourteen year old self that he'd be with not one but two of the most gorgeous women in the world-galaxy even-at the same time, he'd have laughed.

An explosion rocked the building, knocking him from his crouched position onto the floor. And to his horror, he heard a stampede of incoming troops. Armor clanking, shots firing. He could see Natasha on the ground bleeding, eyes closed, her leg bent back at an unnatural angle. Valkyrie was kneeling beside her, shaking her, urging her awake, kissing her face.

His girls were in danger. And he was suddenly very, very angry.


	2. Valkyrie

He was beautiful to watch. The raw power that rippled through him as he tore out the door-literally tore the door out of the wall-and into the atrium reminded her of the Valkyries at their peak. They were fighters. Strong, confident heroes who knew power intimately-both what it meant to possess power and what it meant to behold it.

And, she fucking beheld.

Usually she would be up, partaking of the glorious slaughter, but she had other matters to attend to. Other important, potentially life threatening matters in arms reach.

She leaned down and kissed Black Widow again. In times of weakness it seemed best to revert to names of strength. Names had power. Subtle magic, that, but true. And she willed the power of that moniker into the broken mortal woman before her.

Gods curse humans for their fragile bodies.

With expert hands used for a millennia of field medic work, she felt for Black Widow's pulse. Finding it satisfyingly regular though worryingly weak, she moved her fingers along her body looking for further breaks and fractures.

It was a body wonderfully familiar to her. Yet in this situation it felt strange. Alien even. Valkyrie was reminded not for the first time that midgardians and asgardians truly were aliens to each other. All Black Widow's thin, fragile pieces felt like children's toys beneath her touch.

Finding nothing wrong besides the broken leg, she ripped off a portion of her cape and pulled the braces from her legs forming a splint to hold the broken limb in place.

Black Widow's eyes fluttered open as Valkyrie picked her up.

"Val?"

Valkyrie bent her head down, touching their foreheads together gently. "Natasha."

A loud crash followed by the incoherent roars of the Hulk came from the atrium, interrupting the moment.

"The big guy?"

Valkyrie nodded. "Hold tight. I'm getting you back to the helicopter before our green friend can spoil all the fun."

"You have a strange idea of fun."

Valkyrie laughed. "You know, you're not the first to have said so."

Before Natasha had time to respond with more of her wry observations-even on the cusp of passing out, the woman couldn't help herself-Valkyrie started running for the atrium and the exit beyond, doing as much as she could to prevent from jostling her.

To the right, Hulk raged against a horde of alien warriors, muscles tight, veins bulging in his neck. As incongruous as it seemed, her two years on Sakaar befriending the huge brute had brought out a softer side in her, a side she usually kept secret and safe. Why she'd befriended the creature she'd been sent to capture had befuddled even the Grandmaster himself, but was indulged nonetheless. Secretly, it was because he'd reminded her of herself, but unencumbered by past loss. Hulk was simple. Hulk smash. As a result it was hard for her to fear this enormous creature as so many other humans did.

Meeting Banner for the first time had been less of a shock than it should have been. She'd recognized his face, but more than that she'd recognized the dark core of him.

She'd join him soon. First, she had a girlfriend to attend to.

Bypassing the carnage, she carried Natasha to the exit. She knew it must be painful to be carried so, jostling and bouncing, but Natasha bore the injury in stoic silence-as she bore so much else.

It did not surprise her why the two had once loved each other even before her. And it surprised her less how angry Natasha had been when Banner had returned two years after disappearing to Sakaar. The woman had carried the weight of not knowing anything, and Bruce had expected her to just fall into his arms. Hah, that was not Natasha's way. Not the Black Widow, scourge of Russia-wherever the hells that was.

At the time, Valkyrie had merely been entranced-too much so to pay attention to the daggers they stared at each other, even after they'd been assigned to the same squad. Natasha was so much like Valkyrie's old commander, powerful, quick with a quip, and quicker with a punch from that stinger of hers. It said much to Valkyrie that the stinger was always set to stun and never to kill.

And she'd been happy to bed whichever of the two of them she could convince that night. It was the first time they'd been all together, slightly foggy with alcohol and clumsy with their hands and mouths that she'd seen how much they missed each other.

It was then she fell in love with them.

Why they loved her back she had no idea. But she would take it for as long as they let her.

"I hate being useless," Natasha said.

"Hush, woman. You were hardly useless a few moments ago. I saw that roundhouse kick to the face- you took that alien down with hardly a thought."

"You're too easily impressed by my roundhouse kicks."

"I'm a Valkyrie. I'm not easily impressed by anything… except roundhouse kicks."

Natasha laughed, and Valkyrie blushed with happiness. If she was laughing she couldn't be in that much pain.

The helicopter was in sight now, thankfully unharmed. She sat Black Widow down in the pilot's seat. Even with one useable leg she was still the best pilot between the three of them.

"Warm her up for us?"

Natasha put two fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. "You know I always do."

Valkyrie gave her a wicked grin and kissed her hard on the mouth before running back the way they'd come, feet buoyant with pride and the pleasure of anticipation.


	3. Natasha

The chopper was ready to go by the time the last enemy was killed. Rotating blades spun overhead making the air cold and filling her ears with aloud thumping noise.

An explosion-was that the third or fourth today?-rang out and she barely lifted her head in time to see the facility go up in a red fireball. Valkyrie and Bruce, in human form again, strode out of the flames like big damn heroes, not looking back. Valkyrie had been teaching them all how to be more "badass" and not looking back at cool explosions was lesson number one.

Natasha had to admit, they _did_ look cool…. And then they high fived. She rolled her eyes. Of all the people in all the world, she'd ended up with these two dorks.

Valkyrie, blood splattered across her face, hopped up into the passenger seat-"I believe you midgardians call it 'shotgun'? I call that," she'd said-and Bruce climbed into the hold at the back.

Headphones in place, they took off.

"How's the leg?" Bruce asked over the crackling coms.

"Hurts like hell. How's the shirt?"

"Gone. You know, it's always ripped off, but my pants always fit, it's weird. Like, what happens there? Is my waist just that much smaller than my upper…"

Valkyrie cut him off. "I prefer you with your shirt off."

Bruce didn't respond, instead rustled around in the back searching for the extra set of clothes he'd stashed there just in case. She smiled, imagining his cheeks turning a bright red

"Also with your pants off. Both off," Valkyrie added.

The helicopter lifted under Natasha's hands, following the line of smoke up into the otherwise clear blue sky. As they rose the world expanded outwards revealing red clay and golden fields of grain and a tiny sliver of grey road snaking between them. Beyond, the sun was making its long journey towards the lip of the world.

She steered in an arc, away from the setting sun and towards their home, or at least what constituted a home these days, in New York. They had an 3 hour trip back and miles to go before they slept.

Maneuvering was incredibly difficult with only the one working leg and the pain shooting up from her other leg-it was certainly broken. But years of training had taught her to ignore and push through. Strong. If she had been a teenager again, she might even have forgotten the pain entirely; how her old commanders would laugh at her now for her weakness. But she didn't need to forget it entirely. She only needed to be distracted. She reached a hand over and put it on Valkyrie's arm. "Tell me a story."

Valkyrie looked over, surprised. Usually Natasha was telling her to _stop_ boasting so much. "What would you have me tell?"

"Something true," Natasha said.

"One time there was a goat…"

"We've heard that one before," Bruce said, throwing the remnants of his old ripped shirt at Val's head.

"Well, it's a good one!" Valkyrie protested. "Fine, fine. Once there was fearsome bear with claws this.."

"Heard that one before too," Natasha said, enjoying the opportunity to tease the proud, legendary warrior just a little bit.

"Impossible! The both of you!" Valkyrie cried, throwing up her hands.

"Tell me about when you escaped Sakaar," Natasha said.

Natasha loved this story, loved to hear about how Val took down a ship mid-air, how Bruce let Hulk out when he was truly needed, and the looks they shared upon recognizing each other. Hearing about them so strong and powerful made her proud. And she loved hearing about her own small role in the story, how her voice still calmed Hulk all those years later. Maybe it was vain, but she didn't care. For the three years Bruce was gone, she'd been lonely. Full of rage and sadness, she'd thrown herself into her Avengers work, saving the day over and over and over until it felt meaningless.

Hearing the story was a balm. She had been saving Bruce-and Valkyrie by proxy-even when she hadn't known it was happening. And they were the only two it mattered to her to save.

When she sat the chopper down, the story was long over, and Bruce was asleep in the backseat. Val had turned on music-Norwegian death metal-and was bobbing her head quietly. As the rotator blades came to a slow stop, Val and Bruce got to work unloading the chopper.

Natasha tried to get out of her seat on her own, but the 3 hours of sitting, driving the helicopter had done nothing to help her broken leg and she half stumbled, falling from the seat.

Val was there to catch her.

"You want to hear a true story?" she said, adjusting her in her arms once again. This was getting to be a habit.

"Sure."

"I love you," Val said. "That's a true story."


End file.
